


Mia

by SinisterMind



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: 5SOS - Freeform, Coming Out, Dysphoria, F/M, Gender, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Trans Character, Transgender, all time low - Freeform, lgbtq+, michael centric, queersos, transgender!michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 07:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6414814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinisterMind/pseuds/SinisterMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He googled it. Googled what he felt like and was satisfied with the result. The itch was still there but at least he knew what was causing it. </p><p>Gender dysphoria<br/>/noun/<br/>The condition of feeling one's emotional and psychological identity as male or female to be opposite to one's biological sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mia

**Author's Note:**

> Heya. I'm not transgender so I apologise if i get any info wrong  
> i did a fuck load of research to try and make this accurate  
> and there's lots and lots and lots of dysphoria

Michael was probably the most feminine out of the band and he didn’t see it as a bad thing. He identified as male, people knew he was male but there were some feminine aspects of his looks and personality. 

 

He didn’t care though. He liked his voice and he liked his jaw line and he liked his stubble and he liked his dick. He was comfortable in his body and what he did with his body. 

 

When he was 18, he dyed his hair bright pink and honestly he wasn’t expecting it to be that bright but it was really fucking bright. But he liked it. It was around that time that he had started wearing eyeliner on stage. Who fucking cares, Pete Wentz and the Madden brothers would wear eyeliner on stage and they identified as male so why can’t he?

 

It wasn’t until he looked at himself properly in the mirror and realised that he didn’t like what he saw. That he was uncomfortable with what he saw. It wasn’t him and the fact that he once liked what he saw was him trying to convince himself and not let the feeling he’s felt since a young age evolve. 

 

He didn’t like his jaw line and he despised the stubble that littered his chin. He hated the way his voice was deep and he hated his somewhat broad shoulders. He grew uncomfortable with the bulge in his skinny jeans and how his upper chest was flat. 

 

He felt like there was something itching him all over his body, all day and every day. Like there were bugs crawling through his bloodstream or something irritating the shit out of him. He’d scratch at his skin but the itch wouldn’t go away, all that would be left were red claw marks on his pale skin. 

 

He googled it. Googled what he felt like and was satisfied with the result. The itch was still there but at least he knew what was causing it. 

 

Gender dysphoria 

/noun/

The condition of feeling one's emotional and psychological identity as male or female to be opposite to one's biological sex.

 

He remembers when he was younger, he couldn’t have been older than 13. When he was going through puberty, his voice changing, the growth spurt that made him taller than 90% of his classmates, the formation of a proper jaw and the widening shoulders. He had a dream and it left him confused and disoriented for a solid week. 

 

In the dream he was looking in the mirror, something he did regularly because something was wrong with him but he didn’t know what that something was. He had the same dirty blonde hair and the same pink lips and the same green eyes but they looked different. His hair was choppy and fell below his shoulders, his eyes outline in black and more feminine, lips coated in a pink gloss. He liked it. His eyes had travelled down to the skinny jeans his thin legs adorned but there was no bulge in the crotch region and under his All Time Low band shirt was a small curve. Breasts. 

 

He never told that dream to anyone. He couldn’t. So he buried it, deep in his mind and it hasn’t resurfaced until now, at 20 years old and he’s standing in the bathroom of the house he grew up in. 

 

His hair was getting longer, the red dye fading to an ugly orange colour and if he styled it a certain way, he could pass for a girl. He brushed it until it was straight and hanging down, no product to hold the spikes up. The hair tickled his freshly shaven face and this is the way it was supposed to be. 

 

He watched from a beach chair, his body clad in board shorts and a tank top, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the sun, as everyone jumped into the hotel pool. He liked Bali despite his hatred of the sun, he liked Bali, it was pretty and he liked pretty things. 

 

He wanted to jump in the pool as well, he was positive that even though he’d put on a billion layers of sunscreen that he was getting burnt. (He was right). But he couldn’t bring himself to join them, the fact that he would have to take off his tank top to go in the pool made him want to die. He had been hit with a huge wave of dysphoria this morning when just the other day he was shirtless riding an inflatable swan. 

 

He stood up and walked to the edge of the pool, sitting down to dangle his legs in. And fuck when did they get so hairy and muscly. He frowned as he looked down into the water, the water seemed to make them bigger than usual so he quickly took them out and sat cross legged on the pool side. 

 

And it kept going like that. He was questioned a few times on his strange behaviour by his new LA friends as well as his band mates but brushed them off with a ‘tired’ or ‘hungover’ excuse. They were partly true anyway. 

 

He cut his hair off. Not all of it but a lot and he had mixed feelings about it. He wanted to get rid of all the split ends and dead hair that were the victims of bleach and dye but now his hair was so fucking short and it looked so boyish despite it being a bright blue. Blue was typically a boys colour and maybe this is his way of trying to convince himself that he was a boy. Like a ‘fuck you’ to his thoughts because he’s a fucking boy. Because that’s how the entire fucking world saw him and that’s what he saw in the mirror and it says on his bloody birth certificate but it’s not right. Nothing is right.

 

He’s sitting in a hotel room in Nagoya, Japan by himself. He’s on YouTube looking at all these coming out stories for transgender people. That’s what he is. Transgender. He’s never said it out loud but it’s always repeating itself in his mind. Transgender. He feels okay with it, he feels okay being transgender and he likes that he’s finally got a name to whatever is happening to him. But he can’t keep living like this, as a bloody boy. 

 

He hates what he sees in the mirror, hates it when the boys joke about being manly and that they’re all ‘manly men’. He hates going to the bathroom to do his business and glancing down to see the thing he’s grown to despise. He wonder just how badly it would hurt to chop it off but Michael’s bad with pain so he doesn’t think about it again.  
He stands side on in the mirror and runs his hands up and down his chest, feeling the curves on his tummy and the flatness of his chest. Does he want big boobs or small boobs? Does he even want boobs? Because he knows that even without them, he would still be a girl. He’ll keep thinking about it. 

 

The Asian leg of the tour finishes and they go back to Sydney for a few weeks. Michael’s dysphoria is hitting him strong and all he really wants to do is curl up in his man cave – woman cave? – and play video games until his eyes are dry and he’s going to pass out. 

 

But his parents snatch him up and whisk him away to see relatives because they all apparently want to see him as soon as he lands and he’s with his aunts and uncles, who are all telling him what a handsome young man that he’s become and he wants to scream at them and tell them to stop rubbing his arms over the new muscles that are forming and to leave him the fuck alone. 

 

But he doesn’t and nods politely as they gush over how much taller he’s gotten and has he lost weight? He shrugs when they ask if this is the last time he’ll dye his hair and what his plans are for the rest of their small break and then he’s at home again with the tap water in the bathroom running and he’s rubbing his eyes because he’s just had a breakdown. 

 

He can hear his dog behind the door, scraping it, and maybe that’s what Michael needs right now. Some comfort from his dog. He walks over and opens it just enough for the small poodle to scamper in and circle his ankles before sitting down where he was previously standing in self-pity. 

 

He closes the door again, sliding down with his back against it and pats his thigh so his dog will come over and sit with him. He does. Michael doesn’t move his hand away as Federer started licking at it and he makes no move to turn the water from the tap off. He wonders if what he’s feeling is normal and then decides no it’s not fucking normal because barely anyone in the music industry – well the genre’s that he listens to at least – is in his position, a transgender famous guitar player who’s wallowing away in self-pity and self-hatred. 

 

Getting a sudden boost of confidence, he stands up much to his dogs’ dismay and turns the water off before marching with his head held high to where he knew his parents would be watching whatever they watched on the TV and stands in the doorway. He watches as his Dad glances up and mutes what they were watching and asks what he wanted. 

 

Michael’s confidence is gone as fast as it came. He mumbles out a nothing before slouching in the arm chair next to the couch. He looks at what his parents are watching and his eyes are transfixed on the main character. He’s not really looking at her per say, but more so her curves and her hairstyle and the way she does her make-up. 

 

He knows he’s not skinny, knows he has a bit of extra fat on his tummy and his hips and he’s fine with that. He knows that the fans like it too and he wonders if he was a girl, if he’d have big hips and a small waist or maybe he’d have big hips and a big waist, would his hair be curlier, more messy if it was longer and he let it grow or would he straighten the life out of it like he was a teenager. Would he be tall if he was born a girl? His mum isn’t super tall, about average height for an Australian female which is around the 5’7 mark. If he was to change now, he’d be tall. He’s 6’2, pushing 6’3 but hey he won’t have to wear heels, maybe. 

 

“Michael” his dads sighs turning the TV off once and for all “Why are you moping in the lounge room?”

“’m not moping” Michael mumbled and wow it’s like he never left. 

“Yes you are” he replies “Are you already bored of being back home with your folks?”

“No” he sulks before realising he was moping and raises his voice slightly “I don’t feel good”

“You don’t feel good” his mother repeats and bam, she’s over to where Michael sits with her hand on his forehead feeling his temperature “Haven’t got a high temperature, does your stomach hurt?”

“No”

“Head?” 

“No”

“Back?”

“No”

“Then why don’t you feel good”

“You know what? It doesn’t matter. I’m going to bed”

“Michael” she starts but Michael’s already stood up and made his way to his bedroom where he wallows in self-pity and hatred once again. That’s all he seems to be doing now anyway. 

 

It’s past midnight and Michael can’t sleep. He’s tossing and turning because he had that dream from when he was younger and he wants to cry because he wasn’t to be that person so bad, so fucking bad and his chest aches and his head hurts and he can’t do anything about it. And he realises that he can’t keep living like this, he has to come out and say ‘hey I’m a girl so please don’t call me that anymore’ or he’ll do something stupid and off himself or something. 

 

He goes back to LA with his band later that week and he’s left a letter to his parents under their pillow explaining everything he’s felt from when he was young till now and he’s on edge. He’s turned his phone off, won’t look at it until they’re in their hotel and he’s by himself because he’s positive that there’s going to be tears. 

 

He’s alone and he’s waiting for his phone to turn on and when it does he has 17 missed calls from his mother and he knows it’s probably late considering it’s 2 o’clock in the morning where he is but he doesn’t care. His finger hovers over the call back button until he just presses it and holds it up to his ear with his hand covering his eyes. It rings once, twice, three times and he’s going to hang up when someone answers and his mum is saying his name urgently down the phone.

 

She feels bad that she had no idea what Michael was going through, how she should have noticed how uncomfortable he was in his own skin and Michael shakily tells her it’s okay because he didn’t want anyone to know. Thought it was a phase and he’d maybe grow out of it but all it did was grow stronger. They talk for what seems like hours about everything, she changes Michael’s pronouns, tells Michael to call her as soon as she figures out what her new name is going to be, asks if she can tell the close relatives and Michael feels a weight has been lifted from his shoulders as he lies in bed that night. 

 

He sends a message to his band in a group chat they have with a bunch of emoji’s to make it less serious to let them know they’re wanted in Michael’s room for a band meeting. They have meetings often, most of them set by Ashton, mainly for set lists and other band shit but never about something as serious as gender. 

 

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, breaths slow and heavy as he closes his eyes and plays out the situation in his head. Worst case scenario is that they’re all transphobic and he’s kicked out of the band but he really fucking hopes it won’t come true. 

 

He doesn’t say anything as Ashton walks in and takes a seat, nor does he say anything when Calum and Luke arrive and sit as well. He needs to be careful with his words and he knows he’s going to cry but he hopes it won’t be straight away.

 

“Are you gonna, like, say something?” Luke asks and Michael nods slowly, not taking his eyes up from his lap. 

“Okay” Michael breathes out “Okay”

“Are you okay, man?” Ashton asks “You don’t look to good”

“Yeah, bro” Calum agrees “Look like you’re gonna throw up or something”

“Stop” Michael says “Stop using those words”

“What?” Calum asks clearly confused “What word?”

“Bro” Michael all but flinches as he says it “Man, dude, manly, those words! Please just stop”

“What’s going on?” Ashton asks realising that this is a Serious Meeting. He watches as Michael rubs at his eyes and messes up his hair.

“I can’t keep living like this” he stammered out. His hands are shaking. 

“Like what?” Luke asks 

“This!” Michael gestures to his body “As a boy, I’m not, I’m not a boy”

“You’re not a boy” Ashton repeats slowly and suddenly Michael’s bawling his eyes out and everyone’s in shock.

“I tried” he sobbed “I tried so hard but I hate everything about my body because it’s not mine and I hate being a boy, I hate it so much but I tried so hard to be a boy but I’m not”  
Calum’s the first one to stand up and walk over to Michael, wrapping his arms around him and rocking slightly. It hit Calum the hardest, they’ve been best friends for years now, much longer than the others and he’s mentally kicking himself for not noticing sooner. 

“I told myself I wasn’t gonna cry” Michael says quietly “I probably just ruined everything and you all probably hate me because I’m a girl”

“You’re transgender” Luke realises and Michael nods

“Yeah, I’m transgender” Michael pauses and then he laughs slightly “Fuck. I’ve never said that out loud before”

 

Ashton asks him later on if needs anything. Make-up, new clothes, you know female stuff and Michael shrugs. He’s not out to the entire world yet so he says no but he will later on. The fact that Michael is going to start buying – wearing – ladies clothes, not as a laugh but as a way to feel better about himself or to feel normal is strange to Ashton, he’s learnt a new secret about a friends he’s known for ages but it excites him as well, like Michael is about to start something amazing and he gets to watch Michael do this.  
Michael mentions that he needs to meet with their record label to discuss everything and how he wants to go on hormones so he’ll need to meet with an endocrinologist so having their management aware of the situation at hand is kind of important. 

 

“Do you need anything from us?” Luke asks and Calum and Ashton look at Michael questioningly 

“Can you, I know this is going to sound, strange but” Michael lets out a large puff of air he didn’t know he was holding “Can you use female pronouns for me now? Like she and her and stuff”

She gets a range of replies from “yeah of course” to “definitely” to “duh”

 

Michael gets a big thumbs up from the record label and they’re quick to help Michael set up a camera to record a video to upload to their channel on YouTube. Michael cries in the video, of course she does but she explains everything and how she’s going to be having hormone treatments and that she’ll finally be happy. 

She comes up with a new name. Mia. She quite liked her biological name but refused to go with Michelle or Michaela because they were too similar to her dead name and then Luke suggested Mia and it fit perfectly and she tried it out a few times to the mirror and it worked. 

 

It was a band decision to hold off on the tour for a while. The fans understood and whilst they were bummed about their concert being postponed they were excited to see the milestones Mia will be achieving on their break. 

 

“It itches, you know” Mia puts her feet up on the coffee table as she sits with Luke. “Testosterone, it itches. Like I have to scratch at it and it’s like leave me the fuck alone”

“I think that’s your first indicator then” Luke replies “Because I’ve never felt that”

“Really?” Mia asks intrigued 

“Yeah” Luke shrugs “Like it fits, I’m male, I feel male and I don’t know it feels normal to me. How do you even feel a hormone?”

“Sometimes I feel like I need to crawl out of my skin”

“You can still wank and stuff right?” Luke questions “Does it bother you? Getting boners and stuff?”

Yeah, it does bother me” She pauses “But you can’t really ignore it you know? I tried but whatever really. Wet dreams are much, much worse”

“Because you can’t control them?” Luke guesses and Mia nods. 

“It didn’t always use to bother me” she coughs and moves her feet to under her body. “It’s just getting harder now”

 

She’s been on oestrogen and androgen blockers for a full month now before they start getting back into touring and she looks different. Not a completely noticeable difference and she’s caught the boys looking at her chest more than once to check if anything was happening. 

“You’re all undressing me with your eyes” She announces in the van on the way to their concert “Just ask, I don’t care”

“What, just ask if you’ve got boobs or not?” Calum says without thinking and he regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth. 

“Boobs, no, penis, yes” Mia ticks them off on her fingers “Nipples are like really sensitive though, started shaving my legs and pits and stuff, I sleep better too, I have girly pyjamas now and no you can’t see them”

 

Luke pouts at that.

“And some, odd, things have been happening when I masturbate” she finishes up and snorts at Ashton’s disgusted face.

“Well, I’m really excited for when you get boobs” Luke admitted “That’s what I’m looking forward too”

“What a perv” she giggles so Luke knows she doesn’t give a fuck. “I own a bra by the way, I’m excited too. One other thing, I’m also real emotional so I’m about to cry for no reason so if you’d all look away that’d be great”

 

The thing is Calum notices, is that Mia hasn’t changed the way she takes to the stage, she’s just as loud and energetic as she was when she was Michael. She’s still as loud and inappropriate as ever, always making dick jokes and talking about balls but she’s happier. She’s smiling more and the smile reaches her eyes and she’s glowing and it’s gorgeous.  
Calum picks her up as they make their way backstage after a concert and she lets out a little squeal as he does so but makes no move to leave Calum’s arms. 

 

“You’re lighter” Calum tells her and Mia scrunches her nose up

“Not really, lower centre of gravity and my hips are getting wider too! How crazy is that!”

“It’s only been a few months now hasn’t it?”

“Yeah and my pants are more like fitted on my hips now? Everything I eat is going straight onto my hips” She grins 

 

It’s the following week when there’s a knock on her door and she furrows her eyebrows because since when did they knock on her door and then she realises ‘oh right, since my body started changing’.

 

She opens it to find Calum anyway.

 

“Hey” he greets her “You busy? Whoa are you wearing girly pyjamas?”

“No” Mia replies immediately “I mean, yeah”

She starts to fold her arms across herself but thinks it’s just Cal and she knows he saw them. Soft bumps poking out where her pecs used to stand out normally. They’re not big enough to be wearing a bra but Calum’s reminded back to when he was growing up and when Mali hit the age of eleven, stopped running around without a shirt on and started wearing singlets all the time. He realises that she’s essentially going through a second puberty and now he feels awkward. 

 

“Sorry” Calum apologises. “I didn’t mean to and you said we weren’t supposed to see them”

“Well, I opened the door for you didn’t I?” Mia smiles lightly “Something I have to get used to as well”

“You don’t need to hide from us” he says as he opens his arms for a hug from his best friend “We support you, yeah?”

“Yeah” They stand there in silence before Mia speaks up “Tell me I’m pretty”

“You are” he says immediately, didn’t have to think twice about it “Your hair is growing out and it looks nice, your skin is glowing and your” he indicates to her chest and gives her a thumbs up of approval.

“You’re such a dork” she laughs and shoves him softly 

They have a day off tomorrow and they all decide to spend it together, inside with their phones off and just watch a movie as a band. They’re meeting in Luke’s room and Mia turns up with damp hair, a beanie covering it, baggy tracksuit pants and a baggy hoodie that belongs to Luke. 

 

“Can I use your bathroom?” she asks Luke and Luke shrugs 

“Knock yourself out” 

“Thanks man”

She’s still in the bathroom when Calum and Ashton turn up and when asked where she was, Luke replied with a shrug and a ‘probably wanking for all I know’. Calum and Ashton leave to go get snacks from downstairs – ‘because they’re really fucking cheap! – When Mia calls for Luke.

 

“There anyone else out there?” she asks 

“Nah but if you don’t hurry they’ll be back”

“Okay” she replies slowly “Can I show you something?”

“Sure, whatever” Luke replies and then the bathroom door cracks open and Mia walks out slowly like when you don’t want your parents know you’re sneaking out or to get something to eat.

 

Luke looks up and is shocked to see Mia in a tighter shirt, one that when she moves shows off her bellybutton – it’s a cute bellybutton – and the jeans rest on her hips. Luke watches as she holds the hem of her shirt before yanking it up for Luke to see.

 

“Boobs!” she shouts gleefully and holy fuck, she’s wearing a bra. 

 

“Fuck you’re hot” Luke says on autopilot and Mia laughs. She’s done herself up for their little movie day, wearing female clothes and blow dried shiny hair and even makeup and she has boobs now. This is the greatest day of Luke’s life. 

 

Luke tells Calum and Ashton later on about the women’s jeans and how uncomfortable it must be because women’s jeans are a lot higher in the crotch area compared to boy jeans. They google it and they’re all in awe because tucking? 

“I have to try this” Ashton muttered and walked into his bathroom to attempt to tuck. He comes out in a few minutes “Nope, never again, holy fuck it hurts, how does she do it?”

 

This is how it goes from then on. They continue touring, Mia announcing excitedly on her twitter that she has boobs now and her hips are widening and waist is narrowing. The fans are excited to see the transitioning and they all notice that she’s much happier as Mia rather than as Michael. 

 

She still acts as dirty minded as before. Still tells dick and sex jokes, if not more, than she used to. She’s happier, she smiles more, and she’s healthier – mentally, physically and emotionally. 

 

She’s on stage nearly every night doing what she’s dreamt of since she heard the opening guitar riff to American Idiot by Green Day, she’s friends with her idols and they accepted her as a female and she cried onto Jack Barakat’s shoulder because she fucking idolised him when she was a teenager and she still does. Alex makes a joke out of it because she left mascara stains on Jack’s shirt. 

 

And now she’s standing alongside Laura Jane Grace as one of the most influential LGBTQ+ members at a fancy ass award ceremony and Luke, Calum and Ashton are wolf whistling and shouting praises from their seats and she’s wearing a full length black dress with dyed light pink and blue hair. And this is everything she’s dreamed of.


End file.
